Jodie Picoult - My Sister's Keeper

On Christmas morning, I got the sled and the computer game and the tie-dyed comforter I had mentioned to my mother, but I did not get that hamster because she didn't know about it. I learned two things that year: that neither Santa, nor my parents, were what I wanted them to be. Maybe Campbell thinks this is about the law, but really, it's about my mother. I get up from the floor and fly into her arms, which are a little like that spot in life I was talking about before, so familiar that you slide right back to the place where you fit. It makes my throat hurt, and all those tears I've been saving come out of their hiding place. "Oh, Anna," she cries into my hair. "Thank God. Thank God."

I hug her twice as tight as I would normally, trying to hold on to this moment the same way I like to paint the slanted light of summer on the back wall of my brain, a mural to stare at during the winter. I put my lips right up to her ear, and even as I speak I wish I wasn't. "I can't."

My mother's body goes stiff. She pulls away from me, stares at my face. Then she pushes a smile onto her lips that is broken in several spots. She touches the crown of my head. That's it. She stands up, straightens her jacket, and walks out of the office.

Campbell gets out of his seat, too. He crouches down in front of me, in the place where my mother was. Eye to eye, he looks more serious than I have ever seen him look. "Anna," he says. "Is this really what you want?"

I open my mouth. And find an answer.

"DO YOU THINK I LIKE CAMPBELL because he's an asshole," I ask my sister, "or in spite of it?"

Izzy shushes me from the couch. She is watching The Way We Were, a movie she's seen twenty-thousand times. It is on her list of Movies You Cannot Click Past, which also includes Pretty Woman, Ghost, and Dirty Dancing. "If you make me miss the end, Julia, I'll kill you."

"'See ya, Katie/ " I quote for her. " 'See ya, Hubbell.'"

She throws a couch pillow at me and wipes her eyes as the theme music swells. "Barbra Streisand," Izzy says, "is the bomb."

"I thought that was a gay men's stereotype." I look up over the table of papers I have been studying in preparation for tomorrow's hearing. This is the decision I will render to the judge, based on what is in Anna Fitzgerald's best interests. The problem is, it doesn't matter whether I side in her favor or against her. Either way I will be ruining her life.

"I thought we were talking about Campbell," Izzy says.

"No, / was talking about Campbell. You were swooning." I rub my temples. "I thought you might be sympathetic."

"About Campbell Alexander? I'm not sympathetic. I'm apathetic."

"You're right. That is what kind of pathetic you are."

"Look, Julia. Maybe it's hereditary," Izzy says. She gets up ands tarts rubbing the muscles of my neck. "Maybe you have a gene that attracts you to absolute jerks."

"Then you have it, too.”

“Well." She laughs. "Case in point."

"I want to hate him, you know. Just for the record." Reaching over my shoulder, Izzy takes the Coke I'm drinking and finishes it off. "What happened to this being strictly professional?"

"It is. There's just a very vocal minority opposition group in my mind wishing otherwise."

Izzy sits back down on the couch. "The problem, you know, is that you never forget your first one. And even if your brain's smart about it, your body's got the IQ of a fruit fly."

"It's just so easy with him, Iz. It's like we're picking up where we left off. I already know everything I need to about him and he already knows everything he needs to about me." I look at her. "Can you fall for someone because you're lazy?"

"Why don't you just screw him and get it out of your system?”

“Because," I say, "as soon as it's over, that's one more piece of the past I won't be able to get rid of."

"I can fix you up with one of my friends," Izzy suggests. "They all have vaginas."

"See, you're looking at the wrong stuff, Julia. You ought to be attracted to someone for what they've got inside them, not for the package it's presented in. Campbell Alexander may be gorgeous, but he's like marzipan frosting on a sardine."

"You think he's gorgeous?"

Izzy rolls her eyes. "You," she says, "are doomed." When the doorbell rings, Izzy goes to look through the peephole. "Speak of the devil."

"It's Campbell?" I whisper. "Tell him I'm not here."

Izzy opens the door just a few inches. "Julia says she's not here."

"I'm going to kill you," I mutter, and walk up behind her.

Pushing her out of the way, I undo the chain and let Campbell and his dog inside.

"The reception here just keeps getting warmer and fuzzier," he says.

I cross my arms. "What do you want? I'm working."

"Good. Sara Fitzgerald just offered us a plea bargain. Come out to dinner with me and I'll tell you all about it."

"I am not going out to dinner with you," I tell him.

"Actually, you are." He shrugs. "I know you, and eventually you're going to give in because even more than you don't want to be with me, you want to know what Anna's mother said. Can't we just cut to the chase?"

Izzy starts laughing. "He does know you, Julia."

"If you don't go willingly," Campbell adds, "I have no problem using brute force. Although it's going to be considerably more difficult for you to cut your filet mignon if your hands are tied together."

I turn to my sister. "Do something. Please."

She waves at me. "See ya, Katie."

"See ya, Hubbell," Campbell replies. " Great movie."

Izzy looks at him, considering. "Maybe there's hope," she says.

"Rule number one," I tell him. "We talk about the trial, and nothing but the trial."

"So help me God," Campbell adds. "And may I just say you look beautiful?"

"See, you've already broken the rule."

He pulls into a parking lot near the water and cuts the engine. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to my side to help me out. I look around, but I don't see anything resembling a restaurant. We are at a marina filled with sailboats and yachts, their honey-colored decks tanning in the late sun. "Take off your sneakers," Campbell says.

"No."

"For God's sake, Julia. This isn't the Victorian age; I'm not going to attack you because I see your ankle. Just do it, will you?"

"Why?"

"Because right now you've got an enormous pole up your ass and this is the only G-rated way I can think of to make you relax." He pulls off his own deck shoes and sinks his feet into the grass growing along the edge of the parking lot. "Ahhh," he says, and he spreads his arms wide. "Come on, Jewel. Carpe diem. Summer's almost over; better enjoy it while you can."

"What about the plea bargain—"

"What Sara said is going to remain the same whether or not you go barefoot."

I still do not know if he's taken on this case because he's a glory hound, because he wants the PR, or if he simply wanted to help Anna. I want to believe the latter, idiot that I am. Campbell waits patiently, the dog at his side. Finally I untie my sneakers and peel off my socks. I step out onto the strip of lawn.

Summertime, I think, is a collective unconscious. We all remember the notes that made up the song of the ice cream man; we all know what it feels like to brand our thighs on a playground slide that's heated up like a knife in a fire; we all have lain on our backs with our eyes closed and our hearts beating across the surface of our lids, hoping that this day will stretch just a little longer than the last one, when in fact it's all going in the other direction. Campbell sits down on the grass. "What's rule number two?"

"That I get to make up all the rules," I say. When he smiles at me, I'm lost.